


Compromised

by Theobule (Saathi1013)



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Hand Jobs, Multi, Other, POV Male Character, POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Surveillance, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, unprofessional use of spy tools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saathi1013/pseuds/Theobule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://kinkfromuncle.dreamwidth.org/640.html?thread=32384#cmt32384">a prompt on the MFU kinkmeme</a>:</p><p>
  <i>Illya insists on keeping the receiver turned on while Napoleon is having sex with Victoria, in case it turns ugly or he does actually need assistance. Gaby tries to ignore it, until she notice Illya squirming and becoming visibly "distracted" by the sounds, and decides to distract him further.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromised

**Author's Note:**

> No beta; errors, if pointed out, will be corrected with alacrity.

"No," Illya says, when she goes to turn the receiver off. His ears are red and his mouth is a thin flat line, but he says it again, "No, leave it on. She might be like spider." Gaby gives him a blank look. "Kill him after," he explains.  
  
"Mm," Gaby replies, noncommittally. "Suit yourself." She doesn't understand. He doesn't expect her to; after all, she isn't a spy. Neither is Solo, really, which is why Illya is worried. He sets the transmitter on the table beside his chess set, tries to find the right balance between listening and  _not_ -listening, tries to distract himself by replaying Keres v Botvinnik.  
  
Gaby curls up nearby on the couch, flipping through one of the glossy magazines she'd stocked up on at the newsstand.  
  
"Down," Victoria says through the speaker, sharp and cutting, then her voice tapers off to a coo, "Yes, like that, that's good."  
  
Gaby drops the corner of her magazine. "He seems...  _obedient,_ " she says, fighting to hide a smile and failing.  
  
"How uncharacteristic of him," Illya mutters. Despite himself, he wonders what Solo is doing to coax such sounds from the viper. Is he using his hands, trying to satisfy her with the least amount of  _entanglement_? Is he using his mouth, on his knees, playing solicitous and attentive? Or is Victoria the type to prefer her men strong and straightforward, her limbs wrapped around Napoleon, her claws dug into his back?  
  
Illya swallows hard, chess pieces forgotten.  
  
" _-Illya?_ " Gaby says, obviously not for the first time from her tone, and Illya jolts from his reverie, face burning.  
  
"What," he says, not looking at her, though he can see her in his periphery. When had she stood up? When had she gotten so close?  
  
"I  _asked,_ " she repeats, a teasing note entering her voice, "how long you think he can keep this up?" She drops to her knees beside his chair, propping her elbows on the arm and her chin in her palms. "Hours? All night?" She tips her head to the side, swaying into Illya's direct line of sight. He clenches his jaw, and she gives him the sweet smile he's learning to be wary of. "Do you plan to listen the whole time? Just... sitting there, while he fucks her?"  
  
" _Don't,_ " he says, and it comes out lower than he intends it, rougher.  
  
"He probably has a whole repertoire of tricks," she says, musingly. "How many times do you think he can make her come? She already might have, at least once. I don't think he had to get all their clothes off to do it."  
  
"You-" he says, about to rise, but Gaby's hand drops down to his thigh, sliding up the inseam of his trousers, and he sits back down in a poor attempt to dodge her caress. She finds the source of his shame easily, his cock already half hard and getting harder at her touch.  
  
"Shh," she says, eyes going unfocused. "She's getting close again." And sure enough, Victoria's voice is climbing, becoming more inarticulate. There is a steady thump in the background, some piece of furniture hitting the wall or rocking on the floor. "Did they even reach the bed?" Gaby asks, squeezing gently.  
  
Illya groans, hips rising into the pressure. "Gaby, please," he says, not knowing what he wants.  
  
"Oh, of course," she says, benevolent and sly, and has his trousers open in a flash, shifting so she can get a better grip and -  _ah._  "You know, I'm almost jealous. Aren't you? What if she'd taken a shine to you - or better yet, Napoleon had to play my fiancee and you'd had to court the spider?" Her voice stays casual, but her eyes are avid as she watches him slowly fall apart under the onslaught of her steady words and steadily moving hand. "You'd be in there, fucking her, and Napoleon and I would be listening." Illya hisses a breath out through his teeth. "I think he'd make an excellent wrestling partner, don't you?" She leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper at his ear, "If you wanted, he might let you listen while he fucked me."  
  
He surges out of the chair, catching her shoulders and pinning her to the carpet underneath him. "Please stop talking," he says, and she grins up at him, unrepentant, before licking her palm and reaching for him again.   
  
"Make me," she replies.  
  
 _Fine,_  he thinks in a daze,  _if that's how it's going to be..._  He undoes the ties of her pajama pants easily and hooks his fingers inside, cupping her through her underwear. She's already soaked through the silk, and even though she pushes up against his hand insistently, he takes a minute to tease her, rubbing her through the fabric with gentle pressure until she bites her lip and whines.  
  
"Come on," she says, "come on, you fucking-" He puts his other hand over her mouth and she tries to snap her teeth at his palm, eyes flashing. It turns out to be a good idea anyway, because the noise she makes when he pushes her panties aside and maps the shape of her with his fingertips might've been loud enough to hear down the hall otherwise.  
  
He works her open carefully but steadily, one finger and then two, her muffled cries a counterpoint to the sounds still emanating from the receiver. She is so tight, so hot, but her body yields to him so sweetly that he almost regrets being cold to her before. It's better now, like this, both of them drunk with lust but otherwise clear-headed.  
  
His hand slips across her mouth, and she catches the side of his palm in her teeth. He pushes a third finger into her and she shudders, almost sobbing, hips bucking up to meet each thrust of his hand, every part of her clenching as she comes.   
  
Victoria is right behind her, and Illya can hear Napoleon now, his low, hushed murmurs from before getting louder, less smooth. Gaby's hand resumes its task, wrapped around Illya's cock, keeping rhythm with the noises from the speaker. She pulls him towards the edge and he fights it, head pressed to the crook of her neck, needing... needing  _something_.  
  
"You wouldn't have to just listen, you know," Gaby murmurs to him, her free hand curling around his neck, stroking the fine hair at his nape. "His bed looked big enough for all three of us, hm?"   
  
As she says it, Illya can picture it, Napoleon's clever hands on her body, the unexpected synchronicity they'd fallen into tonight translating well to more intimate endeavors. He hears Napoleon groaning out his release from the speakers, and that's it, Illya's gone, lost, vision going white as he comes in messy spurts over Gaby's fingers.  
  
  


  
  
Later - much later - when he's staring down at a pile of curling, smoking plastic tape, he rubs the bruise on the side of his hand thoughtfully, remembering Gaby's sharp teeth.   
  
He feels the weight of his father's watch on his wrist, and wonders.

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt read:
> 
> _Illya insists on keeping the receiver turned on while Napoleon is having sex with Victoria, in case it turns ugly or he does actually need assistance. Gaby tries to ignore it, until she notice Illya squirming and becoming visibly "distracted" by the sounds, and decides to distract him further. Her groping/rubbing him off and driving him crazy, giving a dirty talk commentary on the sounds "What if you were listening to him fucking me" until he starts to get her off just so she'll stop distracting him. My SOUL if Gaby is mouthy/noisy during sex and so he puts his hand over/his fingers in her mouth to keep her quiet so he can keep listening to the receiver._


End file.
